Between Fan & Fiction

Sweat dripped from Bakugou’s brow as he huffed, his head hanging down between his shoulders as his palms were flattened against the wall. Training period had come and gone, yet the fiery blond hadn’t left the building yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure he would be exiting any time soon. He was done with classes for the day, and without any interference from his classmates and friends, he would much rather keep himself busy and prepare for the worst.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

Today wasn’t supposed to be like any normal day. It was Katsuki Bakugou’s birthday-- a day that he had celebrated with his circle consistently for the past two decades. Only this morning, instead of waking to his alarm and finding the usual well wishes in the form of voicemails and texts, he saw… nothing. Even his mother and father, who in his opinion were way too overbearing, had left him with zilch. Then, when the morning turned into afternoon and no one had so much as mentioned him… well, he stopped thinking about it entirely.

He shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall as he resumed a more practiced stance on the mat. He held his fists up defensively at first, and then began to shadowbox. He was well aware that he should take a break-- or at the very least, wipe down his explosive sweat. But, he was in his element, mentally surrounded by enemies to be contained and people to save.

* * *

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The idle clicking of the wall clock was the only sound in the room, other than the occasional turning of a textbook page. You were sat at your desk, deeply engrossed in whatever subject you had picked to study for the night. The quiet monotony wasn’t something you were used to here; no, it was far more usual for there to be yelling in the halls, or students gathering to head off somewhere or the other. Moments like this, you cherished-- it reminded you of home, a place you were far from. But, such sacrifices must be made for you to pursue your dream of being a hero, someday.

An alarm sounded from your phone, and you finally broke focus to silence it. Leaning back to stretch your sore muscles, you rested your eyes for a moment. Classes were done, and you just finished studying… it was getting late, and you hadn’t yet gone to the dining hall for dinner, so you supposed you might as well stretch your legs and grab some brain food.

The cafeteria was about as empty as it could be on a Sunday night. It was strange, though-- even with everything in your books crossed off for the day, you couldn’t help but feel like you were forgetting something important. You sat down, spooning food into your mouth as you ran through your to-do list for the day.

Morning class, done. Assignment for tomorrow’s class, also done. Lunch, eaten. Come training period, you took a jog down one of the many footpaths to work on your stamina. Studying for a couple hours, also done. You were eating dinner now…

What day was it? April… twentieth? Sunday. There was nothing special about today, was there?

“Hey!” In the distance, a red-headed student beamed over at what is presumably his friend, clasping his hand and pulling him in as they got to having some sort of (by the sounds of it) congratulatory conversation. The boy was awfully familiar-- he was friends with Bakugou, wasn’t he?

Bakugou… Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

You suddenly felt cold all over, frozen in time and space. The food in your mouth was instantly too potent for you to swallow, and though you did, it took a conscious effort not to gag as you did so. You didn’t want to eat the rest of your food-- your appetite had gone and thrown itself out the window.

How in the world could you have forgotten Bakugou’s birthday? You had gone out of your way to stubbornly dig yourself into his life, and you can vividly remember pointedly giving him gifts for each of the times you’d been around to celebrate the day he was born. Surely, though, you were the only one who forgot, right?

After gathering your things and discarding your tray (and working up the courage to walk up to Kirishima), you made a bee-line towards the red-haired boy’s table. As you approached, he and his other friend glanced towards you, and you smiled politely back at them.

“Hey. Uh… can I ask you a question?”

At first, Kirishima didn’t appear to recognize you, but quickly his brain caught up to him and he nodded, friendly enough. “Sure. Go for it.”

“Is Bakugou’s birthday party tonight? I don’t remember the details….” You fudged a lie, hoping and believing that there was no way there wasn’t a party happening. But, you watched in real time as the realization came over Kirishima, and then over Kaminari. Feeling your stomach drop, you knew that this could not end very well.

“Shit. I knew I was forgetting something…”

You offered a polite smile, but really, how were you going to make up for this? Kaminari quickly suggested to throw a surprise party-- the perfect backup plan. But, Kirishima rejected the idea, knowing that Bakugou wasn’t one for surprises. They could have something low-key, but maybe then it would be too-obvious that the day had slipped their minds. You had no other ideas to toss up, but you let the pair know that should they host a party, you would be ready to participate. Then, you walked back to your dorm, picking up your going-out gear and hitting the town.

It was surprisingly nice out, the light breeze soothing any discomfort the harsh sun cast down as it began to set. Walking past the campus entrance and towards town was a nice change of pace; remnants of cherry blossoms fluttered to and fro, and you felt happier now that you weren’t trapped in a room, alone, studying the same information you’d been studying all year. You eyed the buildings within the shopping district-- even though you were strapped for funds, you could afford to spend a little something on the fiery blond. In nearly every window were items that could serve as a wonderful gift, but you had to think hard about which of them would be perfect. After all, Katsuki Bakugou accepted nothing less than perfection, didn’t he?

* * *

It was dark in Gym Gamma, the sun having dipped below the horizon to rest. Bakugou sat on the floor, stretching out his legs with a towel draped over his shoulders. He had since forgotten about what day it was, and his focus was more centered towards what subjects he had to go over before bed tonight. Though lithe and practiced, his muscles ached. Surely, he would feel the wrath of the fibers tomorrow, but tomorrow was not today.

His phone buzzed, and he sighed, peeking over at the bench to glance at the notifications on-screen. Text message after text message popped up, one from each of his friends, apologizing for missing him but wishing him well for his birthday anyway. He made a ‘tch’ sound, turning the phone and it’s notification sounds off. He didn’t want a party, or a last-minute gift, or money… truly, he just wanted to know that he could count on those closest to him. Sure, missing a birthday shouldn’t be that big of a deal, and it wasn’t, but Bakugou remembered everyone else’s birthday. Why couldn’t they remember his?

A soft tapping against the metal exit door echoed through the mostly-empty room. The blond looked up, and in stepped a dimly-lit figure holding what looked like a plastic container. The door shut with a click, and you lingered for a moment before stepping forward.

“Why is it so dark in here?”

Bakugou huffed softly, averting his gaze as he straightened his posture. “Didn’t feel like turning the lights on.”

You nodded. You, too, liked to wallow in darkness when you were upset. It was almost funny, because the blond never really seemed the type. To you, at least. You sat on the floor, a few feet from the other, but close enough that he could now make out the thing you brought. You offered it to him, trying not to feel too embarrassed about it obviously being a last-minute gift.

“It’s just a cupcake… It’s sweet and spicy flavoured. I know it’s not much… But Happy Birthday.”

Bakugou looked between you and the cupcake. His face gave away none of his thoughts, and after a moment of hesitation, he took the container and thanked you. He put it on the bench, near his stuff, and made no other comments. You felt a bit awkward, and you didn’t know what else to say. How were you supposed to talk to him when the weight of your mistakes weighed heavily on you?

Suddenly, he piped up again. His voice was softer, but still gruff. He almost sounded… hurt?

“I appreciate the gift, but don’t think you have to do that just to make up for something. It means less that way.”

You narrowed your eyes. ‘It means less…?’ What was that supposed to mean? Did he think you were just getting him something for brownie points? A bit defensive, but trying to remain calm, you responded.

“It’s not like that. I wanted to get you something because it’s your birthday, not because I feel bad. You’re something to celebrate. Not… to forget.”

He hummed. It was obvious he didn’t entirely believe you, but you accepted it nonetheless. Truthfully, you and Bakugou were never close. Him and Kirishima were the better match, yet it wasn’t him who was sitting in the dark room with the blond. Maybe it was because you had first-hand experience in being left out; you were always the last one picked, the last to be remembered, the last of almost anything you could be the last of. And, you hated that feeling. You spoke up again, beginning to word-vomit out of nervous habit.

“I know what it’s like. To be last, I mean. To be… forgotten. It might not be the same as you, because… well, people notice you. You’re the top of the class. The smartest person I know. And one of the most determined, to do practically anything. It hurts. But it’s okay to hurt. Even if it’s in a dark room. But please know you’re not alone. Okay?”

He had been staring at the wall, basking in the darkness. He shifted slightly, and at first he looked a bit annoyed. His tone was guarded, and he wouldn’t look at you.

“I’m not hurt. You don’t know anything.”

You sighed. No one could get through to Katsuki-- but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I understand the feeling.”

Silence.

Then, he started to move. He stretched out briefly, before standing and gathering his things. You stood, too.

“Look,” you began, feeling like you were running out of time, “I’ll admit it. I forgot today was your birthday. I let everything else get in the way, and something that was supposed to be special was left behind in the middle of it. But-- Bakugou, you are special. I’m sorry I forgot. I’m not asking you to care, but I want you to know I am sorry.”

He furrowed his brow, a bit agitated now.

“Just forget it, okay? I don’t care that you forgot. I care that everyone else is acting like they pity me for being ‘left behind’. I’m not left behind, got it? I don’t care about a stupid birthday. It’s just another day.”

Your eyes softened. That nonchalant facade was clearly a guard constructed carefully to keep others out. And while you had stood outside of that wall this whole time, fine with not being able to peek in, you had the urge to do so now.

“Okay. It’s just another day,” you started, watching as he collected his things and began to walk towards the door. “But-- that means you can eat your cupcake, and we can watch re-runs of All Might on TV, then, right?”

You didn’t see it, but you could tell his stoic expression had broken. He sighed, opening the door as you both stepped outside. “Fine,” he finally relented, not bothering to slow his pace and wait for you to catch up.

You smiled, your wide grin full of pure joy and victory. You didn’t comment, but the night air was cool, and your heart felt lighter. Bakugou would never say it, but he was glad you had come for him. You, despite it all, were an unmistakable light in the darkness. And maybe, if he could admit it to himself, he was glad that you thought he was something worth remembering. It was a weight off his chest-- and the calm in his core. Even with the state of the night, and it ending quietly without a sound, he was happy it had ended this way.

Maybe, today wasn’t just another day. It was special-- but in its own way. It certainly didn’t compare to the lavish parties he’d had in the past, but it was still something he would keep close to his heart. You were something to keep close to his heart.

It wouldn’t hurt to say goodbye, would it?

Without another thought, Boyfriend stepped forward and enveloped Pico in a warm, tight hug. Pico blinked, sealing his eyes tightly shut as he held onto the other, trying hard not to wrinkle his red suit. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Pico loosely clinging to BF, and Boyfriend rubbing small, slow circles into his back. The redhead pulled himself together, and when they stepped apart the air somehow felt different. He met the rapper’s eyes, afraid to speak or ruin the moment.

Boyfriend took another step back, turning to sit on the leftmost side of the vanity bench. He patted the empty space next to him, beckoning Pico. As the other lowered himself onto the cushion, he spoke.

“Do you remember our one-year anniversary?”

“Of course I do,” Pico replied, as if the implication that he would forget had physically hurt him. He rubbed his palms across his thighs, trying to get rid of the nervous sweat sprouting there.

“We can pretend we’re there. Just for a little bit.” BF’s tone softened, almost as if the command were less for Pico and more for himself. The mercenary shared the same desire, however, and so he acted as if they weren’t dressed up for a wedding, moments before his ex was due to get married.

At first, Pico tried to imagine the sky, seabreeze, and sand, his mind struggling to visualize paradise within the walls of this church. His words came slowly; he had so many burning questions, and no clear starting line. He lingered in the awkward silence for a few minutes before finally opening his mouth, eyes glued to the floor as he tried not to focus on the fact that their shoulders were touching.

“So, why’d you invite me here in the first place?”

Boyfriend chuckled, blowing air out of the side of his mouth before taking a deep inhale. “It was mostly Girlfriend’s idea. Something about needing a break. Plus… I wanted to see you.” He said it so nonchalantly, as if it weren’t even a secret. Somewhere inside Pico, the hope that Boyfriend had retained some feelings for him, somehow, grew, even though it was the wrong thing to be hoping for.

“...Why?” The redhead could go through all the reasons the rapper would want to see him, but he wanted to know from the horse’s mouth. He had to know.

The groom only shrugged. The truth was that he missed Pico. Sure, Girlfriend was more than his soulmate, and encouraged him, supported him, and loved him fiercely, but there were nights he found himself thinking about the mercenary. He’d stay up reminiscing on the sound of his soft snoring, or the way he looked when he woke up, or how soft and sweet his voice could be when he was comforting his boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.

He wasn’t having second thoughts, or getting cold feet. Yet, as the wedding approached, he couldn’t shake the growing desire to be with Pico one last time.

“I just do,” he says finally. He dared to look at Pico, his side profile much different than when they were kids. More scars littered his face, and his skin had aged slightly. His freckles were still as prominent as ever, and every time he opened his mouth, he could see his ever-present tooth gap. Then, Pico suddenly turned to face him, and steely white eyes met deep, dark black eyes.

Pico had more questions, but they faded into the background as he looked over Boyfriend’s expression. It was calm, but there was something familiar about the look in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, memorizing the details of BF’s face one last time; the slight slant to his eyelids, and the curve of his nose, or the way he miraculously had no wrinkles, though his laugh lines were starting to appear. Boyfriend leaned in by mere inches, but it was enough for the redhead to notice, and his heart began to speed up again.

He remembered their first kiss— they were laying on Pico’s bed, talking about something he can’t recall. It had been sudden, but more than desired. Here, now— this was much different. Years had passed, and the familiarity they shared had been shed slowly over time. Pico felt like he were a kid again, childishly hoping for the other to make a move as he let the seconds tick by.

But he wasn’t a child. He was an adult, one who did shopping and taxes and worked long, grueling hours. The compulsion to close the gap himself grew stronger, and he swallowed thickly. The rapper stayed, hung precariously in front of him, like the snake tempting Eve with the apple. At last, Pico leaned forward slightly, his lips parting as his gaze settled on Boyfriend’s mouth. He didn’t get much of a chance to do anything else, though, because as soon as he moved, Boyfriend followed through, pressing their lips together softly, yet hard enough that his yearning was now palpable.

Pico didn’t kiss back at first, his head tingling as if he’d just been thrown in ice water. The feeling washed over him, going as quick as it had come, and he spurred to life, moving his lips atop the rapper’s on instinct. Just as Boyfriend began to pull away, Pico closed the gap between them again, near-desperately pulling BF back in by the nape of his neck. His kisses were rougher and had less restraint, years of hidden desires and thoughts coming to the surface and culminating into this moment. The other reached forward, grabbing Pico’s muscular shoulder with one hand, and caressing his neck with the other. He groaned softly, and they clicked into place, their tongues swiping over one another as they deepened the kiss. Boyfriend immediately found that this was what he’d been missing; the merc tasted slightly of tobacco, yet also sweet, and unique to him. A soft groan escaped the redhead, his hands finding either side of Boyfriend’s neck before he gently pulled away, tilting his head down and pressing his forehead against the rapper’s.

A single string of spit connected their mouths, refusing to break apart. Boyfriend reached up to touch his lips, wiping them off with the swipe of his two forefingers. Both men’s hearts beat rapidly, the thrill intoxicating and familiar. Pico’s eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t want this moment to end— he’d sit here forever if he could.

“Pico,” Boyfriend called, causing the merc’s eyes to snap open as he came crashing back to reality.

“I’m sorry.” He mentally curses himself— how could he have been so stupid? But the anger washes away when BF rests his hand on his knee, looking at him with that look.

“Remember that night?” Pico nodded, knowing exactly which night he was referring to. Their last night together, before everything fell apart… it was a memory he visited too often, much to his own disappointment.

But, he couldn’t possibly deny him like this, with so little time left. He nodded, and BF smiled, turning his attention down to the other’s black pants. He could feel the warmth of the man through the fabric, and as his eyes traveled upwards along the seam, he noticed the growing bulge that certainly wasn’t there before.

When the mercenary caught on, he looked away shyly. He hadn’t exactly been intimate with anyone in a long while, and his dick was giving him away. But, the rapper only smirked, sinking to the floor and gently pushing the other’s knees apart. Pico blinked and leaned back against the vanity, hesitating for a moment as he struggled to keep up with what was currently happening. Never would he have expected this to be how it went, but here he was, feverishly undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants so that his ex could suck his dick.

The moment he removed his hands, Boyfriend hooked his fingers around the hem of the other’s pants and underwear, pulling them down in one careful yank before letting them drape across the other’s ankles. He had to stop and take Pico in; his shirt was splayed across his abdomen, revealing his midriff in all its glory: lean muscles tensed under scarred, freckled and fair skin, the nasty scar from Hanzou still prominent with reddened tissue rising above the rest. His fiery happy trail led to a ginger nest of pubic hair, his hardened cock laying to the side across his hip. Boyfriend quickly came to his senses, shedding his overcoat and tie and rolling up his sleeves. He readjusted his position, and gently took Pico’s length into his hand, giving it a few experimental pumps.

Pico’s eyes widened, and he propped his elbows up behind him. Even the dry friction felt good, and his dick twitched from the sudden contact. Boyfriend took this as a welcome invitation, and he lurched slowly forward, testing the waters as he lapped at the underside of the other’s penis. A shakey sigh escaped the redhead, and Boyfriend continued, working the head with his tongue. Jolts of pleasure were sent through Pico, and his mouth flopped open, eyes unable to move from the sight between his legs. With a mischevious smile, BF suddenly took the rest of Pico in, getting his cock as slick with his spit as he possibly could. The redhead’s hand flies to his mouth, and he tilts his head back, his eyes shutting tightly as he tries not to cum right then and there. He pants into his palm, his other fist clenched tight enough that his knuckles were turning white.

“Bee,” Pico warns, the old nickname slipping out without him meaning it to. Boyfriend hums, removing his dick from his mouth with a ‘pop’. Just when the merc thought he had a moment to breathe, though, BF began to plant kisses along his hips, sucking and nipping at the flesh in all his most sensitive spots. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, the dull pain a reminder that this was entirely real. The stimulation sent waves of warmth across his skin, each neuron turned up to feel at 100%. He began to involuntarily tremble beneath his ex, a sign that he was being unwound. Boyfriend stops, finally, and looks back up to Pico, who appears to be catching his breath.

“This is easier than last time,” the rapper remarks triumphantly, as if it had everything to do with him and nothing to do with the fact that Pico was touch starved.

“Fuck you,” he scoffs, unable to find other words for what he was feeling.

“Fuck me,” Boyfriend responds, not missing a beat.

Pico doesn’t say anything— he just stares. The only thing his rattled mind can think of is ejected stupidly from his mouth. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”

Boyfriend laughs. He reaches into his pants, pulling out his wallet, and from it, a stack of condoms that unrolls and hits the floor. Pico stares on in disbelief, before a chuckle comes out of him, too.

“Dude. You seriously keep that many in your wallet?”

Boyfriend shrugs, that boyish grin returning to his face as he tears one off, putting the rest back. He holds it up like a suggestion. Pico takes a moment to think. The concept of time, while in the back of his mind before this, violently reappeared. If they were going to do this, they’d have to make it quick, and that meant there was no time for hesitation. He took it from BF, tearing the corner with his teeth as the other made quick work of undoing his pants and getting them off. Pico stands and rolls the condom on, looking up to meet the rapper sitting a ways back from him.

“So… how we gonna do this? Are you… y’know. Ready?”

Boyfriend nodded, motioning for Pico to move over. He puts his hands on the seat, his knees spread apart with his ass presented nicely to the merc. Pico swiftly moved and kneeled behind him, and though the hard ground hurt his knees, he barely noticed compared to the sight that lay before him.

Another memory briefly appeared in Pico’s mind-- on a whim for their anniversary, he’d booked a night at a really fancy hotel. It was an exquisite experience, getting drunk and high and fucking each other until the sun came up. Looking down at Boyfriend’s ass, he reached forward to touch it, groping each cheek in a gentle yet firm grip before shaking the flesh gently. BF huffed, wiggling his behind as if to say hurry!, and Pico shuffled closer. Instead of entering him, however, Pico pressed his hips to Boyfriends ass, grinding himself against the other. He sighed, and the slick from the condom rubbed partially off against skin. He shifted his hips back before taking two fingers and teasing the rim of Boyfriend’s entrance, being careful to wet his fingers by licking them first. Even though BF had asserted that he was more than ready to be fucked, Pico wanted to at least prepare him. He inserted one finger inside, and it was sucked in greedily. He gave a couple small thrusts before adding a second finger, and then a third. Boyfriend exhaled softly, his rectum squeezing tightly before he wiggled his ass again, silently pleading Pico to put it in him already. With the other’s impatience, the merc almost thought he might have planned this-- but the thought left as quickly as it had come, and he swallowed thickly.

He removed his fingers, grabbing Boyfriend’s rear once more. Then, with care, Pico lined up his cock with Boyfriend’s hole, the head prodding his entrance before it stretched to accommodate the tip. BF huffed, glancing back at the other as his grip tightened on his ass. Mentally, he cursed himself for being so sensitive, and inched himself deeper at a snail’s pace.While they didn’t have lube, the condom was slick enough-- the rapper pushed his hips back to meet the mercenary’s, his own dick twitching into the open air as he was filled to the hilt. Pico gasped, his hands hovering above the other’s waist before they roughly took up a place along his hips. He gripped the flesh there tightly, prodding at the most sensitive areas of Boyfriend’s hip with calloused fingers. Finally, he began to move, giving an experimental thrust.

BF grunted, his nails digging into the plush cushion of the bench. The merc soon after accelerated his pace, grunting as he found a steady rhythym. The other turned his head to the side, casting his gaze behind him and up towards Pico. His brows were furrowed, and he had a small frown— the same one that appeared when he was focused on something. The rapper smiled, taking in the way the other looked when he was fucking him from behind, yet the brief moment passed and his mouth fell open entirely. His thrusts were deep and even, the merc’s dick stimulating Boyfriend’s prostate and filling the growing pit in the depths of his belly. With every noise that escaped Pico or rough touch that held Boyfriend in place, it became harder and harder to hold himself back.

“God damn,” Boyfriend breathed, unable to silence the moans that seemingly bubbled up from his core. Pico huffed, recognizing his ex’s cue. He was already close as it was, but if he stopped now, they might not be able to cross the finish line. With renewed vigor, he began to slam into the rapper with wild abandon, his movements promptly becoming sporadic.

“Bee, I’m gonna cum,” he hisses, his jaw clenching and unclenching in quick succession as his body started to stutter. Then, a wave of ecstacy washed over him, and his dick twitched hard inside of the other. His grip on Boyfriend’s hips tightened, and the cyan-haired male whined, his hole clenching tightly as it was filled with the warm, sticky liquid. Boyfriend suddenly gasped, and his orgasm washed over him, too, semen spurting out in front of him in long, thick ropes. Their bodies twitched and moved without them willing it, riding out their climax still attached at the hip. They both basked in the glow, floating there together as they came down. Neither male dared to move, the rise and fall of their chests punctuating each second while they caught their breath..

Pico leaned forward, wrapping his arms fully around Boyfriend’s stomach as he leaned his weight atop his waist and back. It took everything in him not to simply collapse. He’s definitely spent, but not at all ready to leave this moment behind. He planted a long, tender kiss on the small of the rapper’s back, turning to rest his cheek there.

“I love you,” Pico whispered. It was true, and there was quite that possibility that it would always be true. Seagulls squacked loudly, coming and going just the same as the ocean waves crashing along the shore. He closed his eyes and licked his dry lips; they were salty. The wooden floor beneath them gave way to wet sand as the tides fell, the starry sky illuminating the dark waters and the dim outline of Boyfriend’s skin against his.

The illusion faded as he felt Boyfriend start to pull away from him, and he tore open his eyes, stuttering a small ‘wait’ before he pulled himself back up and gave the room a once over, looking for something to wipe up their mess.

“Here,” beeped the rapper, who reached to the edge of the vanity to pull down a slightly wet towel. Pico reached forward to take it, but the wetness threw him off, and his hand recoiled as he hesitated.

“It’s just water,” he urged, waving it around before the merc took it. He counted down from 3, pulling out after 1— he tied and disposed of the now used condom, giving himself a quick wipe down before he used the unstained side to clean up Boyfriend’s rear.

He took his time, but Boyfriend began to grow a bit impatient. He moved, taking the cloth for himself and finishing what Pico had started. Then, did his best to tidy up the mess he made on the floor. He might have to pay an extra cleaning fee, but… it was worth it.

They both dressed themselves silently, getting on their clothes first, and helping one another straighten up second. Pico re-tied his tie, smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit, and looked to Boyfriend; he was struggling to do so himself, a wrinkle of frustration showing in his brow. The redhead smiled, stepping forward and gently moving Boyfriend’s hands out of the way, taking the silk fabric between his fingers and folding it in and out of itself, creating a decent-looking knot. He grinned proudly at his craftsmanship before smoothing the rest of Boyfriend’s suit along his shoulders and chest.

Boyfriend and Pico both turned to look at the mirror perched atop the vanity— they were a little disheveled in the face, but otherwise, they were practically as good as new. It was strange, seeing themselves together again. Yet, even after everything that had happened, it was like they were still worlds apart.

Pico ran his fingers swiftly through his hair, sweeping it back so that it lay in its usual style. Boyfriend did the same, his techniques differing from the merc’s in a way that was certainly messier. When he was satisfied with how it looked, he took a deep breath in, sighing softly as he looked first at the floor, then back up to Pico.

“It’s time. You should go.”

Pico blinked. Oh. The end of it all had come so fast… He hadn’t really expected for it to be here already. He stuttered for a moment, wanting to say more, but he stopped himself. It wasn’t his place anymore. He’d got what he came for, and it seemed Boyfriend had done what he wanted.

Pico didn’t want to leave, but he had to. He spared one last glance at the cyan-haired rapper before he nodded, taking a step back before turning on his heel and meandering towards the door. He pulled it open, pausing in the doorway. He turned his head, looking down at the floor.

“Stay safe out there. Okay?”

Boyfriend nodded, watching from the mirror as Pico stepped out into the hall and disappeared. The footsteps echoed until they didn’t anymore. Then, the rapper met his own eyes in the mirror.

White and black wedding décor punctuated every surface outside a quaint, minimalist looking church; vibrant, freshly mown grass and a clear blue sky faded into the background compared to the slew of guests filtering in and out of the building. Pico stood idly by, leaning against the outside wall near the open door and eyeing everyone with a scrutinous gaze. Even though he worked as a merc-for-hire, not every day was filled with excitement; today, he was on security detail. He uncrossed his arms— the texture of his black tuxedo was something he still wasn’t used to just yet— and instinctively pat his handgun over his pocket. His anxiety had been bothering him a lot more than usual today, but knowing his weapon was nearby comforted him. When things went awry, the hunk of metal never let him down.

When his high-school ex had called him the week before, he had no idea what to expect. After several moments of internal panic, and one long conversation later, it was made apparent that Boyfriend was getting married to Girlfriend. Pico didn’t think much of marriage, let alone this one in particular; even worse, Boyfriend wanted Pico to be there “for protection”. What he needed protection from, Pico had no idea, but he had agreed without needing much convincing. Looking back, he really wished he would have taken at least an hour to think it over. He’d damned himself to a day of watching his ex swoon over his partner— a partner that wasn’t a redheaded schizophrenic mercenary. 

Pico never really got over him; they had met in sophomore year of high school, and became fast friends. He’d fallen for the cyan-haired boy hard, spending almost every waking moment with him when he had the means. It was no surprise that Boyfriend started to return those feelings, and when Pico irrevocably confessed, the only possible answer to that was to start a relationship together. It was truly sunshine and rainbows— at first. They were happy for a long time (or at least a long time for the mercenary), and Darnell and Nene took to him like a building on fire; they’d all hang out after school, listening to music, creating sick mixtapes, and rap battling each other until they had to go back home. 

The anniversary of their first year together was probably the happiest Pico had ever been. They’d taken a day trip to the beach, basking in the heat and cuddling on the sand until the sun started to set. Then, they’d had this huge fire and talked about their lives, made plans for the future, and promised to stay by one another’s side. It was bittersweet to think about, knowing now that the promise was eventually broken. But, he didn’t blame Boyfriend for that in the slightest. After the incident in senior year, Pico was changed. He was flighty, and almost never showed up to class anymore. Any other time he’d spent with Boyfriend was punctuated by screaming matches, insane ramblings, accusatory language, or the cold shoulder. Then, he started throwing things, or shooting the wall, or waving his gun around like it wasn’t loaded. Even though his partner was clinically unafraid of anything (except for lightning), he had enough sense to start to distance himself. When things became too much, Pico became the military’s errand boy, losing himself in violence by day and attempting to salvage what was left of their relationship by night. 

When he finally came back, he was much worse than before. His PTSD nearly totally impaired him, and he refused to take medication to ease the hallucinations or delusions (he had several episodes thinking the pills were poison, which was reason enough for the merc to leave them be). When he found himself practically about to murder Boyfriend, he knew it was over.

It was obviously for the best.

Over the years, they’d remained loosely connected, but nowhere near the same level as before. Any time they were around each other, it was by complete accident. Ex-rap star Daddy Dearest hired Pico to take him out, but instead, he’d joined Boyfriend’s forces and fought against Tankman’s army. After that, they remained friendly, but never close. It’s yet another reason why the invite to this wedding was so… out of place.

The last few guests among the diminishing crowd filed inside, and with a cursory glance around, Pico began to follow them, attempting to rid his mind from thoughts of the past. The ceremony hadn’t started yet, so there were still a good amount of people standing around, and the wedding party was likely still getting ready with what time they had left before the big event. While Pico certainly could stay here and survey the crowd, deep within him the urge to see Boyfriend grew. Even though it was incredibly selfish, he wouldn’t get another chance to do what he needed to do— he told himself that it would just be for a few minutes, and all he wanted was to get some closure, but the nagging voice in the back of his head snickered at the thought. He did his best to ignore it. Hell, after tonight, Pico might never see Boyfriend again. This realization suddenly imbued Pico with a sense of urgency, and his feet began to move before he could mull it over any longer.

Against his better judgment, he began to sneak around, looking for a door, or a room, or something. He passed through the back right side of the building, and  turned left down a long, mostly empty hallway. There were an assortment of crucifixes hanging on the walls, from small wooden charms to large, metallic pieces. He slowed down and began to check the doors before he found one that wasn’t closed entirely. With a gentle nudge, he silently peaked inside, the signature cyan colour of Boyfriend’s hair standing out to him like it were a sign from God Himself. He stepped back, sucking in a quick breath before holding it for 4 seconds, then exhaling for 4. He did this until his rapid pulse had settled. Once he was ready, he rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door. Boyfriend beeped, calling him inside.

Pico hesitated, but stepped forward, closing the door behind him gently. He cleared his throat, and Boyfriend’s eyes met his from the mirror. He stilled for a brief second before turning around in his chair, his head tilted as if to ask what he was doing here.

“Hey,” the mercenary offered, suddenly unsure of what to say. He took in the sight of his ex, unable to hide the fact that was looking him over. Boyfriend’s signature cap was gone, fluffy cyan locks both messy and neat at the same time. He was clean shaven, and his red tux was tailored to fit his body perfectly. So much time had passed, yet… it didn’t look like anything had changed.

“Hi,” the other responded at last.

“I just wanted to wish you some luck on your big day,” Pico began to stammer, quickly thinking of some way to justify his snooping. His face began to heat up, and he was slightly embarrassed at the slip up. But, he was already here.

Boyfriend seemed unconvinced, but he didn’t say so. He thanked the mercenary for his well wishes, allowing a heavy silence to overcome the room once more. Pico swallowed, having so much to say. He thought over his words for a moment, eyes glued to anywhere but the groom. Before he had a chance to speak, however, the rap-star beat him to the punch.

“That’s not why you’re really here, is it?”

Pico blinked, and his full attention was now on Boyfriend. He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, shaking his head instead. How could he even begin to explain? What would he say? There was nothing he could do to change the outcome of the ceremony, but that wasn’t what he was looking for in the first place. 

Boyfriend suddenly stood, taking a tentative step forward so that he could have a conversation with the other man-to-man. Even though his stature was short (he was 5’4 when he wasn’t hunched over), his presence was much larger than the redhead’s. He was cocky, and confident. Maybe overly so.

“You’ve got some time. But this can’t take all day. Got it?”

Pico nodded, realizing that, despite his previous thought, the reality was that they’d both grown on their own. Mental images from years of loneliness flashed before his mind’s eye, all the moments where he’d missed BF terribly culminating into an endless void that sat in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t have time to deal with this— he had to start talking.

“Boyfriend,” he begins, straightening his posture instinctually, “I know things ended with us a long time ago. I’m not gonna try to change it, or ruin anything. You know I’m not like that.” He pauses to look the other in the eyes, wanting to be as sincere as he possibly could in this brief moment of vulnerability.

“But I still haven’t gotten over how things ended. I was an awful boyfriend. And I didn’t take care of myself when I needed to. I threw myself into work, or became angry, or-or, cold. I just… I needed to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

He wanted to step forward, to hug Boyfriend, or to at least hear him say that he was forgiven… but he knew he didn’t deserve any of that. It was an apology that was almost a decade overdue, and it took the other getting married to force his hand. 

Boyfriend just stared on, taking in Pico’s words. He processed the situation for a long moment before he sighed, closing his eyes briefly before he glanced back at the mercenary.

“I forgave you a long time ago, Pico. But you have to accept that we can never be like the way we were before. You’re a good guy… and I don’t mind seeing your face around town, or rap battling every once in a while.” He punctuated the sentence with a small smile, watching as Pico’s expression softened. For him, seeing Pico after so long was equally as surprising. With his near-celebrity status, he’d learned to have protection around him at all times— mostly, Girlfriend took care of that with an army of demons— but she insisted they hired from outside of that circle for their wedding. She also mentioned the redhead by name, and Boyfriend figured it’d be a good deal. But he’d also be lying if he said that he didn’t secretly want Pico to be there for his own selfish reasons.

The redhead had grown out of his young adult body and into that of a man; he wasn’t overly muscular, or bulky, but he was clearly strong. His round face hadn’t gone away, but his skin was aging, and a handful of small scars could be seen scattered around the parts of skin that were exposed. There was one on his bottom lip, one on his left hand, and one above his eyebrow— all earned from some sort of deadly confrontation, he was sure. If he thought back far enough, he could remember where every blemish and imperfection was on his body, where every insecurity had been, and where the trauma of his past became memories etched into his skin. Boyfriend’s expression darkened, and he tried his best to speak gently.

“But we can’t be… close, anymore. You understand where I’m coming from, right?”

Pico felt an ache in his chest, the sting of rejection burning in his throat. Nonetheless, he understood. He was a danger— Hell, his job was literally being a mercenary. He’d killed before, and likely would kill again. If Boyfriend wanted to start a family with his soon-to-be wife, then what kind of example would he set if he were around? There was just… too much to risk. Maybe, finally, Boyfriend had realized that.

“Okay.” His voice was soft, and though he tried, he couldn’t hide his disappointment. He’d gotten the closure he’d come for, and now he needed to return to his job. Still, his feet weren’t moving, and he found himself looking to Boyfriend once more.

The cyan-haired man was no better. Even though it had been ages ago, he still had the urge to reach out and comfort the redhead. He wanted to hug him tight, to get close to him one last time, to also receive a different type of closure for himself. Though he loved Girlfriend more than anything, he still had a soft spot for Pico. He didn’t know if that would ever change— but it was all the more reason for them to stay separate. He glanced beyond his ex; the door was shut, and there was no one here but them. They still had at least thirty minutes before they had to get to their places… it wouldn’t hurt to say goodbye, would it?

Without thinking about it any further, Boyfriend stepped forward and enveloped Pico in a soft hug. He rubbed his back in slow, gentle circles, and Pico loosely wrapped his arms around the rapper. He shut his eyes tightly, letting the jocoserious nature of the entire situation sink in. Slowly, he tightened his grip, being careful not to wrinkle Boyfriend’s suit. When they pulled away from one another, the air somehow felt lighter.

“Do you remember our one-year anniversary?” Boyfriend asked suddenly. 

“Of course I do,” Pico responded, almost as if the suggestion of him forgetting had hurt him.

“We can pretend we’re there. Back on the beach. Just for a little bit.” Boyfriend sat down on the seat in front of the vanity, scooting over so that there was just enough room for Pico to sit next to him. The other hesitated, but sat down regardless. They were close, their shoulders touching as they started to reminisce and seize the only chance they had left to understand one another.

Pico tried to pretend they were back on the beach— he envisioned the baby blue sky, the hot sun beating down on their backs, the way the towel they were laying on felt on his cheek, how Boyfriend looked at him with that goofy smile… But it didn’t work. The church walls were boring, and the sound of people floating in from the other room was really distracting him.

“...Why did you invite me here, anyway?”

Boyfriend shrugged. There was no point in lying.

“It was Girlfriend’s idea. But… I wanted to see you again, anyway.” He didn’t have to say why.

Pico chuckled quietly. A small smile spread across his face, his tooth gap still prominent as ever.

“If we had stayed together… where do you think we would have been right now?” 

The redhead was perplexed at the question, but he gave it some thought. He wanted to say that they’d be happy, or maybe they’d started a family of their own… but he knew that wouldn’t be the truth. “I don’t think we would have stayed together regardless. It was… awful timing.”

Boyfriend nodded in agreement. Even though he wanted to think that Pico could be happy with him, he knew that there were some things better left alone.

“Are you… happy now?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t even have to think about it. “Girlfriend is amazing. She’s so kind, and she’s really supportive of me. She has a heart of gold, even if she’s a little… dumb sometimes.”

“You’re dumb sometimes, too.” Pico didn’t miss a beat. In the past, he’d consistently teased Boyfriend for his stupidity; even though it was a disadvantageous trait, the redhead occasionally missed it.

They talked a bit more, mostly about mundane things, their lives now, and how everything has changed. Eventually, they settled into the quiet, letting the seconds pass by.

“... I really missed you, y’know,” Pico says, knowing they didn’t have much time left.

“I know. I missed you, too.”

Pico sighed softly, staring at the ground. The shiny wooden floors stared back, reminding him of where they were, and what he was here for in the first place. Then, without warning, Boyfriend stood up, brushing himself off and smoothing the wrinkles in his tux.

“It’s time. You should go.”

Pico rose to his feet, reluctantly walking forward to the door before opening it. He cast one last long look back to Boyfriend, wanting to commit this scene to memory.

“Stay safe out there. Okay?”

Boyfriend nodded, watching Pico step into the hall and disappear.

When the door clicked shut, leaving Boyfriend alone for a few minutes more, he looked at himself in the mirror.